Quidditch
by wannabewyler
Summary: COMPLETE - A variety of stories written for Quidditch League. 1-4 [Hufflepuff - Captain]; 5-16 [Chaser 1 - Appleby Arrows] Thanks to the Appleby Arrows team for beta'ing.
1. Round 1 - Twins

The two babies, wrapped up in their first clothes and blinking against the light that shone above them for the first time, were placed into the typical hospital baskets; this one was larger, allowing for the two to lay together instead of individually. Their hands sought out each other and they remained that way, holding hands and facing out at the world, for the rest of their time in hospital – and a lot more after.

"Fred Gideon Weasley," his mother reprimanded, standing above the four year old with arms on her hips. "What do you think you're doing?" The ginger kid giggled, waving his brother's wand at her and watching as her skin turned a vibrant blue colour.

"Not Fred mumma," he corrected, shaking his head. "George," he pointed to himself. She shook her head but couldn't stop the smile that took over her lips, before swooping down and taking the wand from his little hand.

She ruffled his hair, correcting both her colouring and his twins' before calling for his older brother and leaving the room. "Fred," a voice said tentatively. "You lied," Fred – not George – turned and grinned. "And you stole Bill's wand."

"I did but I think you look good in pink."

* * *

"George Fabian Weasley," his mother screeched at the twin who shoved past her, running away. "Fabian Gideon Weasley," she screeched again, stumbling the other way as her other son shoved her too. "What do you think you're doing?" They shot smirks over their shoulders.

"Can't stop mum-" Fred started.

"-Percy is acting awfully mad for some reason," George finished. The two twins shot up the stairs, running into their room with delirious giggles left in their wake. Percy walked in only a moment later, purple boils covering his skin and his previously ginger hair now a vile shade of green.

"Oh Percy," his mother cooed, bustling him into her arms. "I'll deal with them later."

"Don't worry about it Molly," Arthur countered, looking amused behind his newspaper. "They're ten year old boys who happen to be twins and best friends; might I add that they've been mischievous for years and you were the one who suggested we buy them a prank set to play with?"

She huffed indignantly but couldn't argue.

* * *

Their letters arrived together, attached to the same owl, and the boys danced around the house, acting deliriously. "Do you know what this means George?" Fred asked that night when they were _supposed _to be asleep.

"I think I do Fred," came the reply.

"Pranks," they answered together and fell asleep after plotting and coming up with new gag jokes.

* * *

When they first caught sight of the castle, for the first time in their lives, they were speechless.

* * *

When Fred was sorted into Gryffindor, for a brief second, George was filled with a flicker of doubt – what if he was sent somewhere else? He doesn't know how he'd survive or cope with the next seven years if his brother wasn't by his side but when the hat called the same house, he felt absolutely fine again.

* * *

Over time they befriended Lee Jordan – almost immediate to be honest due to his humorous nature – but he wasn't as close to either twin as they were to each other.

* * *

Skiving snackboxes. Fever fudge. Extendable ears. Nosebleed nougats. Portable swamps. Weasley's wildfire whiz-bangs. Just a few of their products that started their joke shop and made their dream almost a reality.

* * *

Their mother was mad when they quit school and created their own joke shop but they did it together, as friends, and they knew that through thick or thin, they'd always have each other.

* * *

It was hard, watching their own little brother just disappear and their parents start to crumble with worry for_ everyone. _Their worry for Harry because he was the Chosen-One, their worry for Hermione and Ron for being with him. Their worry for themselves due to having the shop in Diagon Alley and their constant taunts to You-Know-Who – even more so with their U-No-Poo gag. They also worried for Charlie, being with the dragons and they worried for Bill with his new found wolfish side. They still worried for Percy even though he sided with the Ministry; the only one they didn't worry for was Ginny and that was only until they found out that Alecto and Amycus Carrow were teaching there.

The twins themselves worried for their family, but never each other because they were always by each other's side and knew they were okay.

* * *

"We can do this Georgie, we can be a part of the battle and help save the world, make history," Fred exclaimed excitedly as they made their way to their defensive positions. "We can do this." George chewed his lip with worry but didn't respond; he knew that they could do it but he didn't want to worry about who they'd lose, not yet anyway.

* * *

He was gone. Never coming back due to the blasted war. It was hard, a long day of gruelling fights and grieving and now he was standing in their flat, looking around the room with the constant reminder of the loss. It was only a few minutes later that he'd floo'ed to the Burrow - only a worse place to go since there were even more memories. He didn't know how he'd be able to go on without his best friend.

"_You can do this Georgie," _he could've sworn he heard Fred say. _"You can do it."_

**Written for the Little Leagues – Hufflepuff – Captain (Round1) Write a familial friendship.**


	2. Round 2 - Enamoured

**Captain. Little Leagues. Hufflepuff. Round 2. Describe someone feeling an emotion without **_**saying **_**it.**

There was something about her that had his heart thumping and his hands sweating. He'd been with her for months, intrigued by her for years before that but it was only recently that the physical effects took place when in regards to her.

He was baffled. He was attached.

She was everything he wanted in life, everything he _needed, _but he didn't know how to tell her. His friends had laughed, 'Draco Malfoy falling head over heels in-' No! He couldn't finish that thought. He wasn't.

He really was.

He was fond of her curly hair that posed a threat to his respiratory system when he slept next to her and he held a weird, unusual sort of endearment with her beast of a cat – an ugly thing that loved to curl up on his chest and meow his satisfaction when Draco managed to make Hermione laugh.

They both held a passion, whether it be for their work, or in an argument, or in between the bedsheets. The passion was there and it was _strong. _It was also yet another thing that drew him to her and made it impossible for him to turn around from. He held a weakness for her eyes; whether they shone from anger, tears, or happiness, he got lost in them. All she had to do was enlarge them, pout and he was gone.

Pet names had snuck into their relationship. He doesn't know _how _and he doesn't know _who _started it but it is too late now. _Sweetheart, honey, darling, dear, angel – _he'd even managed to slip in _baby _and _babe, _much to her displeasure. But she laughed at them so he was doing something right.

Oh, her laugh!

He yearned for her laugh, needed to hear it like he needed oxygen to breathe. The way her nose scrunched up and her eyes crinkled and she made this adorable little snort when she was laughing really hard.

"Draco?" Her voice interrupted his inner thoughts and he blinked up at her slowly. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," he responded, taking a sip of his drink. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem, shifty," she offered, chewing her lip to decide if that was the right word or not. "You've dragged me out to this romantic, candlelit dinner and you've started acting all dazed and nervous and you have a fine sheen of sweat on your skin. What are you so worried about?" He patted his pockets, looking for him handkerchief to wipe his forehead when she gasped.

"What?" He looked at her face closely, eyes wide and face pale. Her hands were shaking and – did she look like she was going to be sick? He followed her eyesight which led to his hands which were patting down his pockets. "Oh."

"Please tell me-" she shook her head. "I care about you deeply, you know that but please-"

"Merlin no!" He exclaimed, horrified. He doted on her like she was water and he was a thirsty man and was desperate for a drink but he wasn't ready for that step. Yet. "Not today," he added as an afterthought, winking at her and relaxed when colour returned to her cheeks.

Watching her so closely only made things worse for him because his mind flashed to a different situation when her cheeks were coloured so, and he immediately lusted after her. He lusted after her practically all day and everyday but this time his mind was filled with filthy images and he couldn't wipe them clean.

"You entranced me," he spoke softly, catching her attention from where it had shifted to her food after the mini scare. "For years I thought I'd hated you, but then you hit me and I felt a different feeling for you. I still think you bewitched me then because I couldn't get you off my mind. All the women I took to bed in your stead were only replacements for the real thing."

"Romantic," she snorted. "Every woman loves to her boyfriend blabber on about his ex-lovers when talking so sweetly."

"Yeah, well, I'm a Malfoy. We do things our way." He laughed and shook his head before carrying on. "I was enthralled almost instantly and spent time studying you like you studied the books. A quick glance turned into a full blown stare, a stare turned into hours, hours turned into days and the days carried on until years had passed."

"That's even more romantic! Talking about stalking your girlfriend before getting with her." She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and he was captivated by the small movement. "You should lead with that next time."

"Noted."

"What is the point of this conversation anyway Draco?"

"Can't a boyfriend try to sweet talk his girlfriend till she swoons?" She leant forward against the table between him and stared at his face, staring and looking for something.

"He can but not when he's trying to get something across. Something that I have no clue how to interpret."

"I'm trying to tell you how I feel," he provided after a few minutes of silence and being scrutinised.

"And what do you feel?" She questioned slowly, both eager and unwilling to hear his answer.

"I'm in-" his voice carried off, unable to form the word that was on the tip of his tongue. "I'm in-" he growled at himself in annoyance. Why couldn't he say it? "I'm enamoured with you," he finished weakly and she grinned – which shocked him.

"I'm enamoured with you too." She leant across the table and pecked him on the cheek. "Let us carry on enamouring each other."


	3. Round 3 - Sheriff's Duty

**Round 3 Little Leagues - Prompts - _Western. _**

"I'm telling you, I saw Madam Lestrange," Hermione Granger insisted, waving her arms around her dramatically in the small Sheriff's office. "You and I both know that she's after me."

"That may be so, but you have no proof that who you saw was who you're saying," Sheriff Potter replied, removing his boots from his desk and shuffling some papers.

"I think I'd recognize the woman who scarred my body and gave me nightmares!" Hermione was angry and embarrassed, arguing with the Sheriff over her life whilst his Deputies watched on with faces that showed their shock and worry. "Okay Sheriff, if you don't believe me, I'd best be going." She stormed out, the doors swinging behind her and with a growl of frustration, the Sheriff stalked out too.

"What was that all about?" Deputy Finnegan questioned, leaning back in his chair and chewing some tobacco.

"There used to be something between them. Feelings of the romantic sort," Deputy Weasley answered, sighing. "She got hurt one day and he never forgave himself. Ruined everything they'd been building."

* * *

Hermione Granger was furious. That blasted Sheriff thinking that he knew best! He had been there when her life had been threatened the first time, he'd been there when her life had changed dramatically from the threat being followed through and he had been there when her life had been threatened the second time. Though he did have a concussion at the time.

She growled with annoyance and hitched up her skirts, running towards her beautiful horse, Buckbeak. If she wasn't going to receive any help from the authorities then she would bloody well save herself.

* * *

Sheriff Harry Potter ran both hands through his hair and sighed heavily.

He'd grown up in the town, Hogsmeade, and it had always been peaceful and quiet, which made the job of Sheriff a lot easier. But all good things come to an end. A famous bank robber, Tom Riddle, had arrived in/come to town suddenly and had attempted to steal every coin they had with the help of a few miscreants - Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov - all of whom were Wanted.

His father had been Sheriff at the time and had been seriously injured in the capture of the criminals. With the position opening after his death, everyone voted for the next Potter. So here he found himself with a lot of stress and petty crimes and disagreements to deal with instead of his farm lifestyle that he'd preferred before.

Only Dolohov, Malfoy and Riddle had been captured within the bank and since then sightings of Bellatrix Lestrange hadn't been uncommon, all of them turning out to be false or just kids hoping to get a slice of the reward money. Hermione wouldn't have-

Oh God.

Oh sweet Jesus.

Hermione wouldn't lie. If she saw her, then she saw her and if she saw her, then...

He swore loudly before turning and running back to the Sheriff's building, shouting out for Ron and Seamus as he climbed onto his horse, Prongs, and galloped to Granger's ranch. She really was in danger and he was a fool for letting his guilt and stress get the better of him.

When they survived this, he wasn't letting her go. Not again.

* * *

Bellatrix waited patiently in the family home, eyeing her surroundings with distaste. She didn't want to be here, but she had to so that she could finish the job. The young chit had recognized her from her Wanted posters almost immediately as they walked through the bank's front doors. She'd been the reason that the whole event had failed and she was almost ready to rip her to shreds there and then; only the arrival of the Sheriff and his son stopped her from doing so and instead, she promised retribution and made her getaway.

A week later had allowed the older woman to finally get her hands on the young wench in the privacy of the town's forest when Hermione had been reading.

It didn't take her long to subdue the younger woman and slowly allow the Black madness to filter into her mind as she tried to break the girl beneath her. She hadn't considered that Hermione might have been waiting for someone and so the arrival of Potter had been a terrible shock that she had quickly tried to overcome.

Knocking him into a tree head-first had been enough to subdue him, but he wasn't the only one arriving to meet with the girl, and so with a muttered threat, she left.

Now she was here to finish what she started.

The sound of hooves hitting the ground and a whinnying noise alerted Bellatrix that the harridan she'd been waiting for had finally got home. She twirled the knife in her fingers lovingly and sighed silently with joy when the doors opened.

* * *

They needed to get there quicker! Prongs seemed to understand the urgency and was galloping faster and harder than he'd ever done before but they were still a few minutes out. He'd only been five to ten minutes behind her from when she left the Sheriff's office to the time he realised what a fool he'd been, but they'd caught some of that time up - assuming she hadn't pushed her horse to its/his limits on the journey home.

There it was!

"Come on Prongs, we're almost there," he informed his horse, leaning down to whisper in his ear instead of shouting. As he leaned down, the sun shone on his Sheriff's badge and he felt a sham for not doing his job and taking her statement seriously. Stress or no stress, guilt or not guilt, he should've been doing his job.

That was his last coherent thought before Prongs skidded to a stop and Harry jumped off, pistol out of his holster as he raced towards the open door with Ron and Seamus following closely behind him. Bursting into the home that he'd visited many times, he immediately noticed a mess in the hallway, indicating a struggle, and by following the mess he could determine that they were or had been in the living room. Guns raised, the trio burst in and Bellatrix whirled around, knife raised ready to do damage, but Harry shot her quickly in the stomach. Ron and Seamus followed suit - either by knowing how angry he was or just instinctively - but they did and she fell dead next to Hermione.

Next to a living, crying Hermione whose skirts were torn and bunched around her, used as some sort of defence. Harry rushed over and cradled her to his body. "Shhh, you're okay," he comforted her and slowly her sobs subsided. "I failed at my Sheriff's duty, ma'am," he told her solemnly, ready for his punishment.

She looked up at him with tearful, yet forgiving eyes. "But you saved me in the end."


	4. Finals - Dates

**Written for Little League Finals. Captain position. Prompt: Nex-Gen characters: Victoire Weasley**

**Word count: 1,255**

"Hey Vikky!" Christian McLaggen called, jogging to catch up with the blonde girl. "Hogsmeade weekend, go with me?" She rolled her eyes and shot a jinx at him, causing him to trip and the surrounding crowd to laugh at him. "The answer is yes I take it?"

"Bugger off McLaggen and go find a girl who doesn't care about personality," she replied. "I like my men a bit more colourful than the dreary colour you represent." She shot the brunet - who was still on the floor - a smirk before turning and leaving him alone, catching up with a couple of her friends who had walked ahead.

"I can't believe you turned down McLaggen," Alice explained, giggling behind her hand. "He's gorgeous!" Victoire rolled her eyes.

"If you think so, then go ask him. I'm sure it won't give your dad a heart attack at all." Professor Longbottom was one of the best that were currently teaching at Hogwarts but he was known for being extremely protective of his little go and they were all aware of the dislike he held for the boy - pair it together and it was just asking for trouble.

"We all know why she turned him down," their other friend and Victorie's younger cousin, Roxanne snorted. "I may not be in your year but even I know that she's holding a flame for a certain metamorphmagus." Alice giggled and Victoire flushed, bowing her head as her two close friends laughed and teased her. "How is Teddy anyway?"

"Shut up," she hissed, covering Roxanne's mouth with her hand, eyes wide as she scanned the area for the blue haired boy. "There is nothing going on, so keep your thoughts to yourself."

"But you wish there to be," Alice prodded. "Right?" Victoire sighed and released the hold she had on her cousin before nodding.

"He's just everything I need, ya'know?" Roxanne smiled softly whilst Alice sighed; it didn't go unnoticed by either of them that she used 'need' and not 'want'. "Is it socially acceptable for a witch to ask a wizard to Hogsmeade?"

"Even if it wasn't," Roxanne said. "Aunt Hermione would throw a fit and make it okay. Do it. We all know what he's going to say."

* * *

He was in the Transfiguration Courtyard when Victoire finally found him, sitting on a bench talking to a Ravenclaw that was in his year. Victoire stood to the side, waiting patiently for them to finish their conversation before she went over. She may be eager but she was brought up with manners.

Teddy looked up and saw her, smiling stiffly in her direction before turning and saying something to the girl - she didn't know her name and by the way she was touching his leg, she didn't want to - who then looked in her direction and nodded. "I'll see you on Saturday," she called as she walked away. "It's a date."

Victoire's heart stopped. It shattered when he didn't make a move to deny it.

"Hey Victoire, how are-" he never got to finish his sentence before she was waltzing away in the direction she'd come from without a word to him. With her back to him, it was easier to hide the tears.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to go to Hogsmeade?" Alice asked, brushing Victoire's hair as they sat in their dormitory. The Weasley had been stuck in her room for the past two days, only coming out for lessons and receiving her meals from the House Elves or Alice and Roxanne. She hadn't seen Teddy since the announcement of his date and she didn't think that she'd be able to handle seeing him with his date today.

"I can't see them Alice," Victoire sighed and the brushing stopped to be replaced with arms wrapping around her from behind for a hug.

"We'll stay in today. Roxanne said that she has homework to do so she'll be in the Common Room practically all day. Maybe we could give her company?" Victoire nodded and shuffled out of the room and down the stairs, still in her pyjamas.

* * *

"Do you see her?" Jennifer asked, his Ravenclaw date. Teddy shook his head as he carried on looking round the crowded pub for her familiar blonde hair. "Seems like the date patrol is a bust. She did hear me say it was a date, maybe she got the idea that you were watching her and decided to head somewhere else?"

Teddy growled and ran a hand through his hair, the blue turning to a frustrated purple. "Are you okay with walking around Hogsmeade with me? We've only just sat down."

"Ted, this is what friends do. Let's go."

* * *

"You!" Teddy shouted, grabbing a kid by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into an alley, pinning him against the wall. "Where the hell is Victoire?"

Christian winced as he tried to get comfortable against the cold bricks before sighing and looking up at the metamorphmagus. "Really Lupin? Why would I know?" The confusion showed on the older boy's face. "Oh. Oh. You thought we were-? Oh that's laughable. I asked her and she said no though the fact that you think I can get somebody who reeks that much perfection is really ego-boosting."

"You mean… there was no date?"

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p'. "She said that she needed someone with a more colourful personality. I can only take that to mean you," he told him, indicating his colour changing hair as it ranged from purple, to red before settling on blue. "Now, can I go back to my date please?"

* * *

"You weren't on a date with McLaggen," Teddy called as he stormed into the Common Room. Victoire paled and immediately rolled off the couch that was resting in front of the fire, trying to head to the stairs that led to the Girl's Dormitories.

"Oh Merlin," Roxanne exclaimed, grinning and throwing her quill down.

"I was looking everywhere for you and I even cornered the little squirt. You've been here the whole day."

"Is that what you do on dates then Teddy? Stalk people?" Victoire snapped back. "Well in that case, leave me alone!" He blinked with confusion and turned his head to look at Roxanne who merely crossed her arms and glared at him. "You and that Ravenclaw bint must have had a right good time, running around Hogsmeade as you looked for me."

"Date? Ravenclaw? Oh, you mean Jennifer?"

"Giving her a name, doesn't make this better!"

"We were on date patrol! I wanted to make sure that it wasn't serious so at the end of the day, you'd still be mine." Victoire's jaw dropped and the Common Room was filled with Alice's sigh. "Not that you are mine but I want you to be mine and I consider you mine because I've been basically in love with you for years and wow, I wish I was like my dad right now and was able to keep all these emotions and words inside where they weren't out for everyone to see." He ran a hand across his face and when he looked up afterwards, Victoire was standing right before him.

"You love me?"

"If I say yes, do I get a kiss?"

She kissed him anyway.


	5. Round 1 - One Thing

_**Prompts:** Write about your chosen Death Eater [Regulus Black] at home._

_**Additional Prompts**: (dialogue), "If you don't eat your vegetables, you can't have any pudding.", (emotion) Anger, (word) Tomorrow_

_**WC:** 1,067_

_**Chocolate Frog Card:** Oswald Beamish: Challenge: Write about an interspecies friendship or romance._

* * *

There was only one thing in Regulus Black's life that remained consistent. Kreacher.

* * *

"Master Regulus is cute," Kreacher commented, tucking the blanket around young Regulus' small figure. "Master Regulus will grow to be a handsome man; yes he will," he continued, nodding his head and ignoring the way his ears flopped into his face.

"Kreacher?"

"Yes, Master Regulus?"

"Why are you nice to me, but not to Sirius?"

"Because, Master Regulus is nice to Kreacher, so Kreacher is nice to Regulus in return." Kreacher immediately appeared bashful, and he eyed the lamp next to Regulus' bed, as if he was contemplating bashing it against his head.

"I'll always be nice to you," Regulus mumbled through a yawn. "You're my friend."

* * *

"Regulus!" Walburga snapped, glaring at her youngest son. "Eat your vegetables!"

Regulus scowled at his plate, the chopped carrots and green peas proving to be a worthy opponent for his appetite.

"Regulus," Orion warned, as he picked at his own carrots. It was obvious where Regulus got his aversion to healthy food, whilst Sirius stuffed his down happily. He was similar to their mother in that regard, but if you ever commented on it to his face, you were sure to have food resting on yours moments later.

"Master Regulus," Kreacher squeaked. "If you don't eat your vegetables, you can't have any pudding." Regulus gaped down at his house elf, horror filling his mind; Kreacher had made treacle tart—Regulus' favourite—and he wasn't going to go without after being tempted with the smell all day. He immediately turned back to his plate and picked up his spoon, scooping a heap of peas into his mouth and barely grimacing at the flavour as he hardly chewed and swallowed it down quickly, before moving onto his next bite. Orion nodded thankfully at their house elf, whilst Walburga merely huffed and turned back to her own dinner.

* * *

"He hates me," Regulus moaned, his voice muffled through the pillow which he had his face buried in. "Kreacher, am I really that bad?"

"Of course not!" Kreacher defended, outraged that Regulus would ask such a thing. "Master Regulus is a wonderful example of a wizard, he is." Kreacher nodded, folding the clothes that he'd recently washed and placing them in the drawers. "Master Sirius," his lip curled with disgust, "Is _not _a good example of a wizard."

"Kreacher!" Regulus gasped, lifting his head and staring at the elf in shock. The house elf in question was looking extremely uncomfortable and slammed his fingers shut with a drawer. "Kreacher, stop!"

"Kreacher shouldn't insult a Master," he offered weakly, staring at his throbbing fingers which were being cradled by Regulus.

"Kreacher should know that I wasn't going to tell him off." Regulus looked at his door to check that it was shut. "If you ask me, Sirius is a bad example of a Pureblood wizard, but he's still my brother and I still love him."

"Kreacher knows this. Kreacher just doesn't like Master Sirius."

Regulus sighed, knowing that this was an argument he'd never win, since it was one that they'd had often.

* * *

Kreacher mopped the sweat off of Regulus' forehead as he quivered and moaned feebly with pain, his left arm red and black, uncovered since even the slightest brush of the softest material was enough to cause whimpers from his Master.

* * *

"Kreacher, am I a monster?"

"Of course not, Master Regulus," Kreacher protested, terror on his face at the thought. "Master Regulus is kindest wizard Kreacher has ever met."

"I'm killing people," he admitted in a whisper, resting his head on the window pane as he looked out of his bedroom and down onto the Muggle street, watching as an unaware Muggles went about their daily lives. "Innocent people that have done nothing but live their lives."

"Master Regulus is cleaning up the world," Kreacher commented proudly, puffing out his chest. "Master Regulus is—"

"Master Regulus tortured and killed a girl that is no older than twelve today because she doesn't have magic," Regulus snapped, whirling around to his elf. "I'm a monster and there is no point defending me and my life choices."

Kreacher cowered in front of the wizard, unnerved by the side of his Master that he hadn't seen before. Regulus noticed and sighed, running a hand through his hair and messing it up.

"I'm sorry," Regulus apologised gently, turning back to the window. "You're dismissed."

Kreacher didn't leave straight away, knowing that he was disobeying orders—but he was unable to leave his Master in such a vulnerable state. He moved closer to the wizard, resting a tentative hand on his trouser leg.

"If Master Regulus doesn't want to do it, Master Regulus should stop. Kreacher only wants Master Regulus to be happy."

Regulus rested his hand on Kreacher's head, stroking gently to silently show his thanks.

* * *

Kreacher's pale and quivering body rested on Regulus' body. The house elf was asleep and even then it was forced, with Regulus ordering the old elf to drink the potion and refusing to allow him to leave to his personal space.

Kreacher had just returned from his time with the Dark Lord and this was not the condition that he'd expected his servant and friend to return home in. It was despicable about how he'd been treated and how he'd been abandoned. He was treated like dirt and that was unacceptable in Regulus' book.

"It's okay, Kreacher," Regulus reassured, his anger diminishing at the pained whimper that had been released in his sleep. "We'll get you better for tomorrow, then we'll begin the process of getting back at him."

"No-o," Kreacher protested feebly, fighting the pull of the potion to converse with his Master. "Master R-Regulus mustn't d-do anything-g."

"Kreacher, I'm not going to let him get away with this. I've been having doubts from the moment I've got this stupid mark, now he's hurt you and he's hunting my brother—" Regulus cut himself off, trying to calm his temper and lower his tone. "I won't let him win, even if my life is sacrifice."

* * *

Kreacher looked around Master Regulus' room, recalling all the conversations that they'd had here. It hurt to know that this room would be empty until another inhabitant was to take it over, and in doing so, remove and destroy Master Regulus' things.

There was only one thing in life that Kreacher had ever loved. Regulus.

* * *

_**Thanks to Screaming Faeries for beta'ing.**_


	6. Round 2 - Muggle Studies

_**WC: 986**_

_**Prompt: Write about a character doing homework for your subject [Muggle Studies]**_

_**Extra Prompts: Procrastinate (word), Throw (word), "This is the most fun I've ever had." (dialogue)**_

* * *

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, distracting Neville from the homework that he was trying to complete. Trying was the operative word, since his head was resting on his left arm whilst his other arm was twirling his quill between his fingers.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, his head lifting sharply as he looked at the witch. "I need you!" he blurted.

She blinked, taken aback, and he blushed as he registered his words.

"I didn't mean-"

She chuckled, interrupting his spluttering. "It's okay, Neville," she reassured. "What do you need me for?"

"Muggle studies," he sighed, moving his parchment closer to his friend as she pulled out a chair and joined him at the table. "I'm trying," he told her. "I am just really struggling to understand how buses work." He glared at the parchment. "And then I have to discuss metal planes and trains and metal cans that go underwater."

"Submarines," she informed him absent-mindedly, looking over his notes and what he'd already jotted down. It wasn't a lot.

"Would you be able to help me? Please?" he begged.

"Sure," Hermione agreed. Some of the curls that had escaped her ponytail flew around her face as she nodded. Neville thought she looked cute and promptly blushed as that thought filtered through his head. "It can be confusing even once I've explained it," she warned. "Some children and even adults struggle, so don't be too concerned if you do too."

Neville huffed out a sigh, his body sagging with relief. Hermione chuckled quietly in amusement; that was exactly how she felt coming into this world and having all these old-fashioned Wizarding customs thrown at her.

"So, buses," she started, mulling the words over in her head to decide on the best way of explaining it. Even though, to her, buses were simple, it astounded her that to others they aren't. Then again, she did struggle with the concept of the floo network when first introduced to it, and still does five years later. "Explain to me what you know."

"They're big cars," he began, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. He didn't want to offend her by saying something wrong! He knew how good she was with a wand. "They hold a lot more people than average cars, and you pay to get on."

"Well done," she congratulated, beaming at him. "In theory, buses are big cars. They're what we call public transport, which is something that anyone and everyone can use. They hold a lot more seats, and yes, you do pay to get on. It takes you to where you want to go."

"So, it's exactly like the Knight Bus?" he asked, curiously. He bit back a sulk when she shook her head in the negative.

"Close," she said. "The Knight Bus literally takes you to wherever you want to go and picks you up from where you are the moment you call it. Muggle buses, however, have a whole load of routes where each bus goes in a specific direction and has designated spots to stop at."

Neville nodded, understanding her explanation and the image he was creating in his head. The picture in the book that she was showing him - when had she gotten that out? - also helped explain.

"Why the money, though?" he questioned.

"Because it is a service. If I wanted my clothes tailored at Madam Malkin's, I'd still pay her because she's doing a job for me. The bus drivers are taking me from one place to another, so it doesn't come free."

"It does for kids and old people," he pointed out, his brow furrowed. He didn't understand why they didn't have to pay!

"That's true," she agreed. "I, myself, don't know why they don't have to pay, but in my mind, the children can't drive cars yet, and some elderly people never learnt to drive. Some can't drive anymore either, due to medical reasons. I suppose that makes it fair." She paused, chewing over her next words. "Professor Dumbledore doesn't go out and play Quidditch like the students here do."

Neville grinned at her, the smile bordering a smirk. "You just insinuated that Professor Dumbledore was old," he whispered conspiratorially. She scowled at him playfully, moving to throw a piece of scrunched up parchment at him, but he held his hands up in surrender, ducking when the parchment sailed over his head. "Okay, okay," he acquiesced. "So, anything else about buses that I should know?"

"Not that I can think of," she told him, and he thanked her before snatching up his quill from the desk and scribbling out the words onto the parchment, the flow of the assignment coming extremely easier than before. "When is the assignment due?" she asked, filling in the silence that was only broken by the scratch of the quill.

"Tomorrow," he admitted, blushing. He shrugged at her pointed look but didn't act too embarrassed as he saw her eye roll. "I managed to procrastinate for as long as possible, but I knew it had to be done."

"Why didn't you ask for help sooner? Or asked Dean?"

"Ask Dean?" Neville snorted. "He can barely do his own homework," he pointed out. "He'd have no time to sit down and help me do mine."

She laughed and watched as he finished putting the finishing touches on his buses segment. "Okay, now, on to trains."

* * *

"Thanks a lot, Hermione," Neville said, packing away his supplies whilst Hermione did the same to hers. "You're a life saver."

"You're welcome," she told him. "I'm sorry it was so boring."

"No way!" he argued. "This was the most fun I've ever had." He took note of her sceptical eyebrow. "Doing homework, that is," he amended. He watched as she muffled a laugh in her hands. "If I need help again-"

"You can come to me," she interjected, smiling sweetly up at him. "I'm always happy to help."

* * *

_**Thanks to ilprincipino for beta'ing.**_


	7. Round 3 - Boring

_**Word restriction: 1201-1500**_

_**Word Count: 1264**_

Teddy was a very opinionated little boy, and he didn't bother being quiet about it. Why would he? Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione had always taught him that everyone had different opinions and his was always right in his eyes, even if someone else didn't agree. Of course, he could accept that he might be wrong once in a while. After all, dragons didn't have pink spots and spit out sweets instead of fire, like he'd believed before. But he was pretty sure he was right this time.

Girls were boring.

It was true. He was in the Burrow's garden and playing with his toys, Hungarian Horntail in his left hand and a hippogriff in his right, when he noticed Victoire sitting opposite him. He paused his 'dragon munching a hippogriff' game to watch the blonde haired girl; he barely made it thirty seconds before his face scrunched up in disgust.

"What's wrong, Teddy?" Uncle Harry asked, crouching next to the metamorphmagus. "Did the dragon fart?"

"No," Teddy giggled. "I just realised that all girls are boring."

"You got that right mate," Uncle Ron piped up, sitting on the other side of him. "They find boring things to talk about and play with," he said. Teddy nodded his head eagerly in agreement. "It's good to know that from an early age."

"Are all girls boring?" asked a different voice laced with amusement. Teddy tilted his head back to squint up at the female figure of Hermione Granger. She was a girl, and if all girls were boring, then she should be boring too. But, she wasn't. Aunt Hermione was the least boring girl in the whole world! She read stories and made the characters have funny voices, and she played with his toys and built towers. She didn't mind getting dirty when they played in the garden, and she even helped him sneakily prank Harry with goodies from George's shop.

"Every girl but you," he amended.

She grinned down at the little boy, amused that his typical blue hair was now matching her outrageous brown curls. "What makes girls boring anyway?"

"They don't play with good toys, and they just sit there being boring," he said, his eyes moving to Victoire who was pouring tea for one of her witch dolls whilst speaking softly with a teddy bear. Where was the violence, the excitement, the roaring? Boring.

"You'll change your tune, kiddo," Hermione said knowingly. "And when you do, I'm going to laugh."

"I'll never change my tune," he declared. He paused, turning to look at Harry. "What is my tune?"

* * *

"Oh, there you are," Victoire said, standing in the doorway of Teddy's compartment on the Hogwarts Express. "I didn't see you at the station."

"I was there," he replied, "but I fancied a quiet goodbye with Mum and Dad. I love everyone, don't get me wrong, but sometimes quiet is just not their forte."

"No, I suppose not," she chuckled. "You call Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione, Mum and Dad? That's new."

"They raised me," he shrugged. "I know they didn't give birth to me, and they tell me about my birth parents every time I ask and sometimes when I don't, so I know who they are, but Harry and Hermione are still my parents."

Victoire smiled, the words making complete sense to her. Though others might have seen it as offensive to Remus and Tonks, she understood to the best of her ability.

A rustle of paper made her realise that Teddy wasn't alone in the compartment, and she fought off the startled look that she knew she was wearing. She turned to look at the opposite seat to Teddy and smiled at the boy who was reading a book. "Oh. Hello, I'm Victoire," she greeted. "Are you one of Teddy's friends?" He nodded shyly.

"He's still trying to understand Quidditch. He's read every little thing about it that he can, but he still can't decide on a team worth his support." Teddy rolled his eyes. "Mum changes her mind every single day, and yet Will, here, can't decide."

"Aunt Hermione changes her mind just to wind up Uncle Harry," Victoire pointed out. "I'm a fan of the Appleby Arrows myself."

"I like the sound of the Holyhead Harpies," Will confessed, flicking through a couple of pages in his book. "But the Falmouth Falcons seem to interest me."

"Not the Chudley Cannons?" Teddy gasped, a hand covering his chest with his hand as he pretended to appear hurt.

"You've been spending way too much time with Uncle Ron, Teddy." Victoire rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

Teddy smirked at her, morphing his features to replicate Ronald Weasley perfectly. "Have I, Victoire?" he teased. "Have I really?"

She rolled her eyes at him again before giving a wave to Will and leaving their compartment. Teddy allowed his features to go back to normal.

"You fancy her," Will said. Teddy spluttered and immediately denied it, but Will smirked. "You fancy her a lot."

* * *

It was during sixth year that Teddy stood in Hermione's office doorway, his hands fidgeting nervously as he mentally debated the pros and cons of entering the room.

"Teddy, I can hear the gears in your brain creaking with overuse," she called, not even looking over her shoulder to look at him, instead maintaining her steady flow of writing. "What's wrong?"

He didn't say anything, though he did enter the room fully. He waited for the scratching of her quill to die off and her attention to be on him before he spoke. He stared into the same hazel eyes that he'd been gazing into since he was a mere babe and felt himself relax. She'd always had that effect on him.

"I've changed my tune," he blurted. Hermione blinked in confusion before throwing her head back and laughing.

* * *

"No, Remus!" the little girl cried. None of the parents rushed to the child's aid since the tone was more one of annoyance, than anything else. "The Chudley Cannons are not the best quidditch team." Teddy stifled a laugh by burying his face into the crook of Victoire's neck as she hid her behind her hand. Other parents of the large Weasley clan and Order families chuckled, the declaration being amusing on its own, whilst the Lupin parents were reminded of a conversation of their own.

"You know," Teddy murmured. "You aren't nearly half as boring as I had initially pegged you." He pressed a kiss to her pulse point. "You're a right ball of fun."

"You thought I as boring?" she asked, pulling away from his grasp so she could look at him. "I find that highly offensive."

"In my defense, I was five," he attempted to placate her, but she merely scoffed at him. "I was! You can ask Mum or Dad, and Uncle Ron, they were all there! You were playing with your tea set and speaking with your dollies."

"As if you remember that," she grumbled. He grinned at her.

"Of course I do; I remember everything about you." His words worked as he'd planned. A faint blush began to paint her cheeks, and her eyes to glow with happiness. He'd try to keep that look on her every chance he got, but she hated the colour she turned.

"Daddy." A tug on his trousers interrupted them. "Am I boring too?"

"Of course not, Lyra," Teddy reassured. "I was just being a stupid boy."

"And boring," she replied. "Boys are boring too."

"All boys?" he asked, smirking at her.

"No," she admitted. "Grandpa Harry is pretty cool!"

* * *

_**Thanks to ilprincipino for beta'ing.**_


	8. Round 4 - Devoted

WC: 1037

Prompts: soul (word), obliterate (word), "Do you really need to do that?" (dialogue)

* * *

Hedwig looked at the little boy in front of her, the way his shoulders were hunched and his shirt hung off of his body, but the way his eyes were still alight with a fire she'd never seen before. He had a good soul, she could tell that much.

She could already feel herself growing comfortable with the boy, which surprised her for having only been in his presence for a week, but she was happy. She could tell that in the future, she'd die for this boy, her owner.

* * *

Hedwig let out a screech of frustration, immediately feeling guilty when Harry shushed her. He was just as worked up and annoyed as she was, but it wasn't him that was locked in a cage that was in a larger cage. He let her out at night, let her fly around the small room and stretch her wings but during the day, he locked her back in her travel cage to protect her from the horrid people that her owner lived with.

She wanted to obliterate them all. She wanted to scratch out their eyes and bury her beak into their guts. She wouldn't though, she knew that Harry wouldn't appreciate it.

An owl could dream, though.

* * *

The rat looked appetising. It had looked appetising from the first time that she'd ever seen it, pulled out of a ratty pocket and placed onto the ginger boy's lap. She'd held off, knowing Harry would have difficulty making friends if she chewed on their pets. She also had better restraint, she told herself as her eyes narrowed in on the pathetic rodent.

Crookshanks had the right idea, chasing it around and trying to treat it as a chew toy. However, Hedwig saw the conflict between Crookshanks' owner and the rat's. She didn't want that to occur with her Harry.

Besides, she had enough to worry about with the news of Sirius Black hunting him down. There wasn't a lot an owl could do as a protection detail, not a lot besides flying in the way of a curse.

* * *

Hedwig didn't even bother keeping the agitated look off her face as she stared - glared - at Harry. She was a perfectly good owl, _his _perfectly good owl. She flew damned well, quick and agile, and always delivered a letter to the correct person. So, why on Earth wasn't he using her?!

He sent the letter off with a plain, brown owl that belonged to the school before he made his way over to her and smiled gently, running a finger down her feathers. She turned her head away with an annoyed huff and flutter of feathers.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, his tone soft. "It's for your safety."

She turned round and bit him, causing him to bleed. It wasn't the first time he'd used a different owl, or apologised to her, or been bitten. It was a pattern they both knew would be repeated.

"Do you really need to do that?" he grimaced. He wiped his bloody finger on his trousers before shuffling closer and encasing her in a hug. She squaked indignantly, eyes and beak wide and feathers ruffled, before settling down into his embrace and nipping at his ear good-naturedly. "It truly _is _for your safety," he reassured, reminding her of her disuse and bringing a glower back to her face.

* * *

He was hurt.

Hedwig mentally rolled her eyes from her perch as she realised that Harry got hurt on a regular basis and it wasn't anything to worry about, but she was still worried regardless.

He was in school, and even though he'd been hurt in the safety of the school many times, this was different. It was a teacher hurting him, a really foul, toad-like teacher. She tilted her head; actually, he'd been hurt by a teacher every year since coming to school, even if the whole werewolf incident had been an accident. Maybe it was different because she had more power in the castle than others had before her.

Harry hissed as his cloak rubbed against the wound on his hand. Even with the healing process beginning, it was still tender. She nuzzled her head under his chin, hooting at him affectionately.

"She's horrid, Hedwig," he admitted in a whisper. "She's truly the most foul person I've ever met. I think she might be worse than Vernon."

Hedwig pulled away from her owner, her wings flapping to show her disagreement and he chuckled, understanding her. "Yeah, I don't think she's reached that level of foulness. Not yet, at least."

* * *

She watched the cruel people leave the home that they'd always lived in, a familiar building, and felt sorry for them. They may be narrow-minded and not have a clue about anything, but they still didn't deserve this to happen. Nobody did.

Hedwig watched as more people entered the abandoned home, straightened herself to be more alert when her Harry hissed out in pain as the familiar witch tugged on his hair. Then, she watched as her Harry got lost in a crowd of other Harrys. If she was any other owl, she wouldn't have a clue who her owner was, but she'd watched this man grow from a boy, and she knew.

She hooted at him when he looked over in her direction and tilted her head good-naturedly when he grinned. It had been a while since he'd shown outward signs of anything but sadness.

She watched her Harry change clothes until they were all identical, and then she followed the group onto the street where they took to the skies. It felt good to fly so unrestricted, weaving around the Harrys until she was flying behind her Harry.

She watched as cloaked figures appeared from the cloud cover and started firing curses; her heart raced for her Harry was in the middle of everything! How could she protect him when everything was in shambles?

She saw the cloaked figure raise his wand, point it at her unprotected and unaware owner and dove in the way.

The Killing Curse struck her instead of Harry and she died happy, knowing that she protected her owner to the best of her abilities. Just as she knew she would.


	9. Round 5 - Meet Again

**Prompts: **No using a '?' (restriction), Atmosphere (word), Cherry (colour)

**Scenario: **Oliver Wood and Parvati Patil meet again for the first time at a Quidditch match years after they leave school.

**Word Count: **1209

* * *

"Thank you again for getting here so quickly," the Puddlemere Coach greeted, huffing as he jogged over to her. "Susie is normally so reliable, but lately…"

"Lately she's been having a lot of home problems with her brother's being thrown into Azkaban and her Dad's falling ill. I'm sure you can give her some leeway during this difficult time," Parvati muttered, unimpressed.

"Of course we can," he agreed eagerly. She internally rolled her eyes. People with money and power weren't always smart and weren't always eager to have control of the universe. Sometimes, they were just oversized lap dogs, eager to impress and make friends.

"I suppose I'll be expecting a lot of injuries today then," she said dryly, looking at the players warm up for their match later that day. "Magpies aren't always known for being the cleanest of players."

"No, you're right there," he chuckled. "We're expecting the regular chaser to be knocked off the broom because of anything ranging from bludgers or clashes, but we're also expecting our keeper to hit the ground, despite the hope we have for him not falling off."

"Huh, your keeper must be a sensational player if he can't stay on for the duration of the match."

"He _is _sensational. Oliver Wood is a magnificent player, but his rivalry with the Magpies' chaser, Marcus Flint, goes all the way back to Hogwarts. They'll be clashing heads on the pitch again tonight."

Parvati's eyes widened; she hadn't seen Oliver Wood since Hogwarts. There had been their occasional greetings when she was in school, but being a first and second year, there hadn't been too much contact between them, even though they were in the same house. They'd caught up during the Battle of Hogwarts, but she'd been too concerned with Padma and Lavender to check up on him afterwards before he'd left the grounds.

"Well, I'll get myself prepared in the Healing Ward that you have on site, and then I'll meet you in the stands at the beginning of the match."

"I'll save you a seat," he promised, waving her away.

* * *

The atmosphere in the stands reminded her of every Quidditch game that she'd gone to at Hogwarts. Her cherry-coloured seat set her apart as a Healer and was surprisingly comfortable, considering that the stands were typically made for convenience and not comfort.

Upon the referee's approval for the game to begin, Parvati knew that she was going to be kept busy.

Within the first ten minutes, she'd had to heal a bludger to the leg. She'd tried to persuade the player, a chaser who was brand new to the team and was clearly in over his head in this match, to sit out and let the leg heal (which was what it needed), but she was overruled by pure stupidity and determination, and he returned to the game.

He was carted off to St Mungo's only twenty minutes later when his broom was shattered by a crashed into the side of the stands before falling towards the ground, luckily being saved by a quick '_arresto momentum'._

"Bloody hell," she muttered after she dealt with yet another broken nose and sprained wrist. "Even Draco Malfoy was able to catch the snitch quicker in Hogwarts."

The coach laughed. "It'll be over soon, trust me," he told her.

And it was, for their Keeper.

* * *

"Okay, lay him here and don't move him," she snapped, making space for him to be put on the bed. "Now, two of you stay in case I need help holding him still, but stick to the walls and stay out of my way. Everyone else, scram!" she ordered, hustling over to Oliver Wood's side.

"Hello," she greeted warmly, smiling at the disorientated wizard. "I'm going to ask you a few questions. Is that oka-"

"Ow," he interrupted. He tried to lift a hand to his head, but Parvati held his arm down. "I'm in pain."

"I know you are. The bludger hit your chest and forced you into the pole. You could've seriously damaged yourself, so I'm going to run a series of tests, but I can't do them and get accurate results if you've ingested anything for the pain."

"I can wait," he vowed. "Let's get started."

"I'm the Healer," she growled. "I'll say when we start. Let's begin." He smirked at her, and she stifled the urge to roll her eyes in response, knowing that this wasn't the time or place. "I have the slight concern over paralysis, especially with the force that you struck the pole. What I'm going to do is ask that you keep your head straight and your eyes pinned on the ceiling whilst I feel your legs at certain points. You'll tell me if you can feel anything or not. I'm going to start-"

"I can't feel you," he interjected. "Oh Merlin, I'm never going to fly a broom again!"

"Maybe we should wait until I begin," she chuckled. "Here," she said, resting her hand on his foot. He wiggled it in response and nodded his head. Her hand travelled up his leg, feeling more for broken bones now than testing for paralysis. "Right, we're all good. On a scale of one to ten-"

"Ten," he hissed as he shifted on the bed. "The pain is at ten. I'd really like a pain potion and my shoes now, so I can go back and play."

"Oliver Wood, you are not going back out onto that pitch tonight," she snapped. "You're going to lie and listen to me and ingest every goddamn potion that I shove down your throat and accept every spell that I cast." He blinked owlishly. "If I need to repeat myself then I will be able to, don't you fret."

"No! No, I heard you the first time." He smiled as her body slackened with relief and she started offering him potions. "Parvati, I wish that I'd sought you out after the war," he confessed, eyes glazed and voice slurred, indicating he wasn't wholly present.

"I don't mind," she told him.

"I do," he said. "I looked for you, at Hogwarts, but I couldn't find you. You weren't amongst the dead so I figured you were alive and had already left. I checked the hospital but you weren't there and then I couldn't get ahold of you. My owls came back returned. I thought you didn't want to see me."

Parvati stopped wrapping the bandage around a deep cut on his arm and stared at him, eyes wide. She remembered receiving dozens of owls after Padma's death, but she hadn't bothered to read any, not when they were all going to be filled with apologetic notes that lacked the comfort she wanted and needed. She wished she'd read them anyway.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't worry," he reassured. "I handled it. I coped. I still wish you'd accepted my request to go for lunch though."

She chuckled at him and finished tying his bandage.

"I didn't expect our reunion to be at a Quidditch match, and I didn't expect you to be drugged up on my hospital bed, but pickers can't be choosers. Let's go to lunch tomorrow."

"Okay," he agreed, blinking heavily before snoring softly.


	10. Round 6 - Greedy for Her

Harry stood in the Owlery, his elbows resting against one of the stone window sills as he watched the stormy skies; the rain and thunder and lightning being his only companion. All of the owls took flight the moment the wards were broken, and the building had stayed empty since the battle began.. He wasn't surprised that the owls were knowledgeable enough to recognise a battle they couldn't fight.

"Harry," a soft voice breathed behind him. He didn't stiffen at the newcomer or jump in surprise. He'd been expecting her arrival, practically tasting the anticipation. She wouldn't stay away; he wouldn't let her.

"Hermione," he replied, not turning around. "Are you as surprised as I am to know that this building is still intact? The Quidditch stands were destroyed, and Hagrid's hut didn't make it out well, just like Hogwarts, but the Owlery? It survived in its entirety."

He sensed her move closer to him, and his body keyed into hers enough to know that she was neither uncomfortable nor relaxed.

"I noticed that one of the steps was broken," she murmured, flinching as a rumble of thunder bounced off the walls.

"As did I, but I'm pretty sure that was from an angry student who just received some bad news. The work was sloppy."

They were silent for a moment. Hermione leaned slightly into him to draw comfort from his presence and his heat whilst he stared resolutely ahead, refusing to offer her what she wanted. His jaw clenched.

"It's sad that we can tell the difference between-"

"He touched you, Hermione," he spat. She closed her mouth and turned her head to face him, her expression neutral to allow him to get what was on his mind, out of his system. She knew he'd be angry and wasn't surprised by his anger; she'd been waiting for it since she came up to meet him. Her eyes looked at him knowingly, patiently and Harry's anger deflated minutely. "He has no right to touch you, to touch what's _mine."_

"He seems to think he does," she replied, not goading, but just telling the truth. Ron did seem to think he had a right, had a claim.

"He doesn't," Harry declared, whirling on her and gripping her arm, tightly but not enough to hurt her. "You're mine," he hissed, his eyes glowing. "When this storm is over, we're going back to Grimmauld and I'm not letting you out of my sight, or my clutches, for _days."_

"Only days?" she asked, her voice sounding breathless. Harry smirked, satisfied with the effect he had on her. "I'm surprised that you aren't keeping me locked away for weeks."

"I can do that too, if you'd prefer." He stepped closer to her, his chest pressing against hers. She had to tilt her head back to keep her eyes on his. "I'm possessive. I'm going to make sure that everyone knows that you're mine."

"Maybe you'll become so possessive that the only people I see are you and my parents," she mumbled sarcastically.

"I'm not some superhero who wants everyone to be happy, Hermione. You know I'm not that man," he admitted. "I want you, and only you. I don't want anyone else to look at you, touch you, speak to you, or even _think _of you. Everything about you should and will be mine."

"So greedy," she breathed against his lips, pressing a quick kiss to them. "I have always known who you really are, and that's why I love you."

Harry seemed to relax at her words, his arms wrapping around her to hold her close to him.

"I'm not sure greedy is the word to describe me," he chuckled, his chin resting on her head as she returned his hug. "That's the word you'd use to describe Ron at a meal."

"Greed; an intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power or food. You have an intense and selfish desire for me, that's apparent."

"I'm definitely greedy for anything Hermione," he conceded. He smiled as he felt her body shake with amusement. "You're mine, Miss Granger, and I'm going to make sure that you know it."

"I thought you were going to wait until the storm had passed," she teased, snuggling into his chest.

"Hermione, the storm _has _stopped." He laughed as she jerked away and moved to stare out of the window.

"When did that stop?" she asked. "It was really bad when I came up to join you."

He shrugged, grabbing her hand as he started to lead her down the stairs. He wished that they could apparate straight out of the grounds, but McGonagall had replaced the apparition wards as soon as she could to prevent any Death Eaters from trying to avenge their dead leader.

"We're leaving," he informed her, even though he was confident that she already knew. "Now."

"Shouldn't we stay to help?" she asked, nibbling on her bottom lip. He turned and quickly pulled her bottom lip from her teeth with his thumb, and shot her a look.

"I'm the only one who nibbles that lip," he whispered huskily, before seeming to change persona completely and carrying on their walk. "We won't be much help. What the people need now are Healers and Aurors. We're neither, and we wouldn't be much help when we're both about to keel over with exhaustion."

"But I thought you were going to take me home and prove I'm yours?"

"I'll take as much time with you as I can get, even if it is you ignoring me or we're both asleep." They'd started clambering over some rubble as they made their way to the edge of the grounds. "Besides, I don't really need to prove that you're mine." He smirked at her over his shoulder. "It's a common fact."

They were silent as they approached the edge of the wards and apparated back to Grimmauld Place. In the old home, Harry did exactly what he'd promised to do and monopolised all of her time. Nobody saw Harry and Hermione for a week after the war ended, only receiving owls to confirm they were both okay and alive.

Even years later, Harry would still be at Hermione's side almost all the time, making sure that most of her time was spent with him, most of the things she saw were him, and that most of the people she spoke to were with him.

His greed for Hermione's time never died down.

**Word Count: **1081

**Prompt: **lightning (word), Owlery (location), 'I have always known who you really are, and that's why I love you.' - Belle, _Once Upon A Time _(quote)

**Task: **_Write a light character with GREED_, or a dark character with CHARITY


	11. Round 7 - Seeing a Thestral

**Prompts: **Rolf/Luna (pairing), addicted (word), mist (word), brush (word)

**Chocolate Frog Card: (Gold) Demiguise:** Challenge: Write about invisibility without the use of an invisibility cloak.

* * *

"Incredible," a voice breathed, alerting Luna that she wasn't alone. She didn't startle or reach for her wand, just carried on petting the thestral. "I can tell that you're touching something, but I can't see what it is."

"I thought you'd seen a thestral before," Luna replied, smiling as the thestral huffed at her. "You've implied that you've seen one."

"I've only seen where they are, like this," Rolf Scamander told her. "I've never witnessed death to see them in their true form. I wish I could see their beauty."

"They are a sight to behold," she agreed. "But seeing them comes at a price." She turned to look at her boyfriend, smiling at the slight pout on his face. "Come," she said, "you can brush my hair."

He reached for her hand and linked their fingers, glancing back over his shoulders to the empty clearing, hopeful for a glance, even though he knew he wouldn't catch one. They were just as invisible as they had been the last hundred or so times he'd looked.

"How do you get your hair so messy?" he asked, bringing himself back to the conversation. "You've only been petting the thestrals."

"I think the nargles don't appreciate my sudden neglection," she confessed. "I've been so worried about the pregnant thestral, I fear that they are punishing me by ruining my hair."

* * *

"So I'm all packed for the trip to Mexico," Luna commented as she breezed into the room. "Daddy is happy to look after all of our shoes so that they don't get hung up on the ceiling."

"Luna, that never happened to me," he replied, distracted by the letter in his hands. "That only ever happened to you."

"All the more reason to make sure your shoes are looked after," she said. "If it happened to me, it could happen to you since you're close to me." Rolf didn't reply and Luna turned to look at him, an inquisitive look on her face. At his furrowed brow, she placed a pair of glasses over her eyes—the same ones she used at Hogwarts to find Harry on the Hogwart's Express—and noticed his head full of wrackspurts. "What's wrong?"

"It's my dad," Rolf said with a troubled sigh. "He's not very well."

"And St Mungo's can't help?"

"They've done all they can, apparently." He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly. "They can only make him comfortable."

They were both silent for a moment before Luna moved to sit next to him and rubbed a hand down his back.

"I'll unpack our bags and send an owl to daddy."

"What? No, Luna, you can't do that!"

"Rolf, you need to be here for your dad. Mexico can wait. This is important."

"We've been planning this trip for months! I want to go with you."

"But you also want to be here for him. I'm not mad, Rolf," she reassured, reaching for his hand. "Stay here and be with your dad for as much as you can. I'll contact the necessary people and we'll postpone our trip. You'll regret not going to see him if he passes through the Veil before our return. You know it, and I know it."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I know how much you were looking forward to this."

"Don't apologise."

* * *

Rolf hated St Mungo's, despite how much nicer it had become in the years since his first visit. Going to St Mungo's meant that something was wrong, something that couldn't be dealt with at home. Something bad.

His Nan had passed away in St Mungo's when he was a little boy, and both of his parents had had short stays over the years. He'd even been a patient for a short while when he came down with Dragon Pox; he was lucky to have survived that.

Now he was here to see his dying dad.

"Rolf," his Mum greeted when she noticed her standing in the doorway. "I didn't think you'd be able to come."

"He's dying, Mum. I wasn't going to spend his last moments in a Mexican forest."

"I know how much that trip meant to you."

"Dad means a lot more."

"Glad to hear it, son," a voice croaked, adding to the conversation. "I didn't think I ranked up that high with magical creatures."

"Dad!" he scolded, moving to his bedside. "You're on top of it all."

"You're only saying that," he chuckled. "I rated lower than Hippogriff manure when you were seven."

"I'm not seven anymore, Dad."

"No," his father smiled, looking at his grown-up son. "No you're not. I'm proud of you. I don't think I ever said that enough times, but I am."

* * *

Rolf spent the next few days in the hospital, sometimes with Luna, but most of the time was without. Rolf wanted to spend as much time with his dad as he could, before he finally passed away.

Even if that meant being present when he left this world.

* * *

"Is the mist due to the actual weather or is it just a special effect that comes with the creatures?" Rolf asked without looking away from the thestrals.

"The actual weather, Rolf," Luna answered, "but you knew that. The wrackspurts must be having an affect on your brain again."

The two lapsed into silence as they watched the herd interact, and the new mothers care for their new foals.

"I was addicted with the idea of seeing them," Rolf murmured after a moment. "I wanted to see them so bad. They were unknown, something I hadn't experienced and something I wanted to. But now? Now I miss the innocence I had before."

Luna's hand reached for his and he accepted it.

"Everything comes at a price."

"And now I have an eternal reminder of witnessing my father's passing." He chuckled mirthlessly. "A reminder I wish I could forget."

* * *

**WC:** 977


	12. Round 8 - From Loads to One

The centaur looked to the sky, his heart falling as he read the stars. They'd shifted minutely over the past few days and now it foretold a new future. A new, _dark, _future.

* * *

Dean Thomas had put up a fight.

He'd cursed and he'd jinxed, disarmed and shielded, ran and hid but eventually the Death Eaters overpowered him. He watched the wand fly from his hand into theirs - a masked and cloaked figure with no name - and then he'd watched his wand be snapped into two pieces.

Then he'd been tortured.

The Cruciatus curse had been fun to begin with, his vocal cords really appreciated the intense screaming session that he went through; eventually his bowels and bladder gave out and it just wasn't as interesting anymore. Then they moved onto some simple spells. The Diffindo wasn't as enjoyable as the torture curse but it gave the Death Eater a good kick as he watched the muggleborn bleed over the dusty castle floor.

Fire was next, then water, then the Cruciatus curse again.

Dean could sense his captor's interest dwindling and without a wand, without anybody to help him, and with a huge amount of pain on his body, he had nowhere to go and no way to fight.

He welcomed the Avada Kedavra and he prayed for muggleborns around the world. He prayed for his friends. He prayed for his family.

* * *

_Dennis,_

_We're sorry, Dennis, but Colin was murdered at the Battle of Hogwarts. We tried to protect him as much as we could, but he managed to slip away from the younger students and right into the battle. He helped other students, helped heal with Madam Pomfrey, but he wasn't able to make it out of the fight._

_Neither was Harry._

_Dennis, the wizarding world is lost, for now. Voldemort has won. You need to take your parents and leave, hide, live as best as you can. It's what Colin would've wanted and it's what you need to do. Don't go avenging him._

_Run._

Dennis Creevey glared at the parchment that had been delivered by a stray owl, the words blurring behind tears. How could he run? How could he hide? Even though the battle was over, there was still a war going on. He could help!

"He's dead," he mumbled, watching his parents' faces crumble. "He fought bravely, but it wasn't enough."

"Does that mean He's won?" Dennis nodded as an answer to his father's question. "Then we should leave, get as far away as we can and hide. We need to remember Colin."

"We need to avenge Colin," Dennis snarled, his happy and cute persona gone with his brother. "He needs to be avenged."

"Not now, Dennis," his mother soothed, walking closer to him so she could stroke his hair. "An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind. Don't be like them."

Dennis ignored her.

* * *

_SHADOW KILLER STRIKES AGAIN_

_Over the past few months, many families have been murdered in the safety of their own homes. There have been a total of eleven attacks so far around the country, all with the same M.O. No locks are broken, no security systems affected and yet these cold blooded killers are able to gain entry to homes._

_Another family was targeted yesterday, and like every other family, an eleven year old child was murdered brutally alongside their parents. A criminal psychologist has spoken with the police and us and have told us: "These killers are full of hatred more for the children than the parents due to the level of violence that goes into their deaths. Maybe they lost a child and can't help but take others or maybe they went through a traumatic experience at a young age. With the minimal amount of evidence we've got, we can only tell the hatred is for the children."_

_The family are as of yet unnamed, but will be announced later in the week._

_Let us all pray that these murderers are caught soon, and pray for the lives lost._

* * *

Julia and Paul Creevey stared down at the simple gravestones, their hands clutching each other tightly as they cried.

_Colin Creevey_

_1981 - 1998_

_Dennis Creevey_

_1983 - 2001_

_May they rest happily as brothers reunited once again._

* * *

Justin Finch-Fletchley tried not to look paranoid and twitchy as he made his way down the path to his bins. He was just a simple muggle, going about his simple life with no magic in his blood at all.

"Oi!" a voice shouted, startling him. He reached for the wand that rested on his hip, before remembering that he was a muggle. Muggles weren't going to have wands on their hips. Stupid. Stupid! And now he had to stifle an embarrassed blush so as to not draw any attention. Stupid!

"Yeah?" he answered, turning to face the newcomer. "Jake? You gave me a fright."

"Sorry Harry," he shrugged. "You were off into another world again, your mind buzzing with so many thoughts that I could hear it from across the road."

Justin rolled his eyes.

"What did you want? I have things to do."

"Sheesh, I forget you're always such a hermit. Why are we friends again?"

"Beats me," he chuckled. "But seriously, I left the oven on so if you could get to the point…"

"Of course. Just wanted to see if you were coming to the pub to watch the soccer tonight? Or football, as you'd call it."

"Yeah, I'll meet you down there," Justin replied, beginning the short walk back up the path to his house. "Eight sound good?" Jake nodded and Justin smiled before shutting the door of his home and his face wiping blank.

Five years since Harry's death and Voldemort had won and he was still as jumpy as he was after the first month. If anyone could see him now, he'd be labelled a coward. But he'd already given himself that label.

The least he could do is live on in Harry's memory, even if it was just an alias for a kid who ran to America.

* * *

"Hello, poppet," the voice hissed in her ear, startling Hermione Granger. "How are you today?"

She didn't answer him, instead choosing to carry on looking down at the floor of her cell and admiring her dirty feet as they swayed above the ground. The clink of chains alerted her to her release and she barely had enough time to prepare herself before she fell to the floor.

"I do enjoy seeing you at my feet," Tom Riddle Jr laughed. He kicked her in the side until her arms and legs gave out and she was sprawled flat. "It gives me such pleasure."

"Why?" she asked, her voice croaky from screaming and a lack of talking. "Why am I still alive?"

"Because you're a trophy." He smirked at her. "Harry Potter died twenty years ago today. You're the last living mudblood." He crouched down to be closer to her level, even if a god like him shouldn't lower himself to be in a similar position to such filth. "My men are skilled and have hunted down every last coward from around the world, and every single day, you filthy beings begin to dwindle in numbers. Purebloods are reigning supreme."

"And eventually, you'll all interbreed so much that you literally can't have children and when you do, they'll be squibs or mutant children. Doesn't that make you so happy?"

His smile turned cold.

"I made you make a horcrux, Hermione Granger. For as long as I live, you will too. The permanent trophy to show the world. Aren't you glad to be a mudblood?"

* * *

**WC: **1,277

**Task: **What happened to muggleborns?

**Prompts used: **blush (word), An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind. (quote), Centaur (creature)


	13. Round 9 - Breaking Free

Alice's eyelids fluttered before quickly shutting again when her eyes were assaulted with a bright light. She raised a hand to shade them and glanced around, taking note of the unfamiliar surroundings.

She managed to push herself to a sitting position, barely possible with the ache in her muscles and the way they quivered. It was painful but she felt vulnerable laying down.

A broken wand was scattered next to her and she eyed the pieces of wood with curiosity, wondering why they were so familiar to her. Her mind didn't stay focused on it for long, instead choosing to investigate her surroundings; a woodland with large and peculiar flowers.

She was alone, as far as she could tell, and it didn't scare her as much as it should, but she still felt a shiver of unease run through her.

A shadow weaved through the trees, a weird combination of both animal and human, moving at a speedy pace.

Alice felt the urge and need to follow this unknown figure, person, thing. It truly should worry her; she was in an unknown land with no recollection of how she arrived to her location. She had no protection, no companions and no supplies to assist her.

She shouldn't feel this comfortable! She should also feel more annoyed that she was this comfortable, but even that wasn't right. It was like part of her mental functions had failed.

She stumbled to her feet, wincing at the way her knees groaned, before moving to follow the speedy shadow. He was fast: extremely fast, and she could barely keep up with him, but his silhouette was still in her line of sight. Even if it was getting smaller.

"Wait," she cried, her throat sore as if she'd been screaming for hours. "Wait, please!"

The silhouette disappeared.

* * *

With the rabbit-figure gone and no obvious path to follow, Alice soon lost her way rather quickly. Everything looked the same and she had no obvious markers to indicate that she'd been there before. She was pretty convinced that she'd been walking in circles.

The wildlife here was peculiar: ducks that looked like horns, and a large bird that was built like a cage with smaller birds inside, and large vultures that were made out of umbrellas and randomly coloured hedgehogs. Everything was crazy!

She was also pretty sure that she'd heard flowers singing not far from her earlier. And somehow, in all her wanderings, she'd managed to avoid any intelligent life forms to hold a conversation with.

Until she encountered letters and shapes made from smoke. Seeing them, her curiosity was piqued instantly and her course was diverted.

She moved through the foliage, the smoke-shapes getting bigger and more often as she grew closer to where they began. It surprised her when she saw a caterpillar sat upon a large mushroom.

"Who are you?" he asked in form of a greeting.

"A-Alice," she stuttered. "Who are you?"

"I ask the questions, child," he replied, exhaling a puff of smoke. "And I asked, who are you?"

"I answered," she told him. "My name is Alice."

"Alice, _who_?"

"I… don't know," she breathed, realising that she _didn't_ know who she was. "I don't remember. Why can't I remember?"

The old caterpillar, with a white beard and twinkling blue eyes, gave her a knowing look. "That is not for me to answer," he said. "The white rabbit has the answers."

"Where will I find him?"

"With the Red Queen, of course."

The name filled her with dread.

* * *

She stumbled across the Red Queen, almost quite literally, as she made contact with some of her card-minions first.

They moved quickly, restraining her and surrounding her with half of a pack, before dragging her away from the rose bushes and taking her to the Queen. She guessed that it was a win-lose situation because this figure of royalty was clearly someone to be feared, but the white rabbit who had her answers was also here. Maybe he'd help her get out of trouble.

He couldn't.

The Queen had been extremely delighted to see the young woman, her grin turning predatory but she didn't play all her cards at once, keeping a few tricks and secrets up her sleeves, and invited Alice to play croquet.

Alice tried to play and she supposed the Queen had rigged it so she'd fail from the start as her eyes held a knowing glint and her lips formed a smug smile. She practically jumped in the spot when Alice lost the match and lost her temper.

"Break her mind," she'd shouted, laughing manically as she was dragged away. "Snap it in two!"

The white rabbit, who she still hadn't made contact with, followed quickly, hopping to keep up. Nobody stopped him, so she guessed that things were partly okay. It was when they dumped her in a heap on the floor, preparing to begin the 'mind-breaking' process, that the rabbit made his move.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hidden rabbit hole which they both tumbled through. She heard the exclamations of shock and anger at the hole entrance, but she didn't stick around to see how they reacted, especially since the rabbit was tugging on her arm in an urge to hurry her up.

"Alice, come on, we have to leave," he was saying. "Once we get to the door, we'll finally be free of this prison."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, beginning to pant with over-exertion already. "Who are you? What door are you talking about?"

She sensed more than saw his eyes closing in annoyance. "What a time to forget," he muttered. "Look, you have to focus. You have to remember."

"Remember what?"

"Me!" he shouted. "You have to remember me! You have to remember Lily, James, Sirius and Remus, you have to remember my mother and your parents and you have to remember our little boy."

"I don't understand!" she cried.

"Listen to me," he demanded. "There's a door straight in front of us." She could see it. "When we get there, we both have to remember the lives that were taken from us or we have to relive this goddamn curse all over again, and we've never made it this close before."

"How many years have we been here?" she asked.

"Twenty, I think," he answered. "Sometimes I remember, sometimes we both remember, sometimes only you, but we've never made it this close to the door before. Please, Alice, you have to remember us. Fight the barrier and remember!"

_Remember. Remember. Remember._

Her head was beginning to hurt and the rabbit was dragging her closer to the door and he wasn't slowing down.

"Frank, you're going to hit the door."

"That's the idea!" he shouted back, laughing with pure delight. "That's the idea for sure. I love you!" he said, just as they made impact with the wooden door.

* * *

Alice blinked slowly, her eyes trying to adjust to the overhead light. Her head was resting on an averagely comfortable pillow that was bordering itchy, and the blankets that covered her body were smooth like silk. She moved her head to look at her surroundings, finding comfort in Frank's body in the bed beside her and the elderly woman sat by his side which she recognised as Augusta.

"Hey, mum," a quiet voice greeted. "I didn't expect you to wake up so soon." Alice moved her head to face where the voice had come from. "I brought some of your favourite sweets since you finished the packet you had yesterday, and I was really excited to tell you about my new job."

"Neville?" she whispered, her voice slightly croaky from disuse. "My baby boy?" A few tears filled and escaped her eyes in quick progression. "Why are you so grown up?"

Neville's eyes widened at her coherent words and he quickly called for a Healer, his eyes never leaving hers and one of her hands clutched in his tightly. She didn't mind the pain; pain meant she was alive, awake, aware.

"Mrs Longbottom?" the Healer said as soon as he walked in. "How are you feeling?" Though his words were calm and friendly, his eyes showed his true emotions. Scared, confused, exhilarated, shocked.

"I'm okay?" she answered, her eyes still on her son who was an adult. "Is that okay?" she asked Neville.

"Okay is wonderful," he answered, crying. "Absolutely wonderful."

* * *

**Task: **Alice in Wonderland themed

**Prompts used: **a broken wand (object), clumsy (word), "Okay is wonderful" (dialogue)


	14. From Her Portrait

Dilys Derwent had seen a lot of things happen from her portrait. She'd seen arguments, break-downs, break-_ups,_ and job interviews. She'd watched the position of headmaster be changed and... And wars begin.

She had been there when Albus Dumbledore was merely a professor and had listened to him as he expressed concerns regarding Tom Riddle, a seemingly harmless and rather bright Slytherin.

She had listened via other portraits, and heard of the boy's extra curricular activities. She even named him as a suspect for the death of Myrtle, but it was merely a tragic accident, and who was going to listen to a dead witch? She was history.

"I'm still here," she'd hissed. But Dippet had ignored her, consulted the wizards, and left her to sulk. Albus had acknowledged her, but even he was unable to change the Headmaster's opinions.

She glared at the two men, before leaving her frame in what definitely was a huff.

It was years later that the same name was mentioned again, catching her attention from where she was knitting, and taking note of the men in the room. Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. He was a talented boy, plenty of potential for the future, but his poor life choices had left him with very little and he was stuck in Albus' grasp.

She used to believe that the old man would be helpful; that he'd listen to her and deal with problems before they rose, or at the very latest, as soon as they did so. But he didn't. He relied on people who were young, who had their whole life ahead of them, and let things flow as they began, when he had information that could change the game.

Sometimes she found herself yearning for Dippet; he may have been old-fashioned and sexist, but at least he listened and dealt with things.

News came, one Halloween evening, and celebrations were thrown all over the castle; in Common Rooms, and portraits, and there were even a few brave souls who ventured out of their safe zone and into the corridors and classrooms for their parties.

Albus remained in his office, head cradled in his hands as he shed a few tears. She'd heard of the Potter family; Lily and James had caused quite the ruckus in their time at the school, and now their child was making headlines.

"I tried to warn you, Albus," she murmured. "But you would not listen."

"No," he agreed. "I wouldn't. Would I?"

She smiled apologetically, before settling down in her frame, struggling to find sleep. She wasn't going to celebrate the death of a murdering maniac when it meant that a little boy, not even out of diapers, was without a parent. It didn't feel right.

She managed to sleep with the sound of his crying in the background. Somehow.

She had a quiet ten years, with no reason to pester Albus about murdering maniacs or about people who were far too young to be sacrificing their life. They'd had a small argument when Sirius Black was arrested; she, protesting his conviction, whilst the all-knowing Headmaster deemed it okay for the man to be kept in Azkaban. Even when it was obvious to the pair of them,and other portraits, ghosts and teachers thought it was obvious that he was innocent.

"He isn't receiving his letters," Albus cursed, one day in July. "It's those damned muggles."

"Did I tell you not to send him there?" she asked. "Yes, I did," she answered for him. "Am I right again?"

He glared at her before flicking his wand and silently casting the cover over her portrait.

She gasped at his audacity before settling to glare at the back of the cover and finishing her book. There was no point heading to another portrait because he'd only cover that one as well. Besides, she wasn't that petty.

The next time her portrait was uncovered, was when the young 'hero' had been contacted and found via the oaf of a groundskeeper and he was on his way to Diagon Alley.

Dilys silently suspected that he'd be shutting her portrait multiple times in the future. She was right.

The first time came only months later when Albus decided to use Hogwarts as a house for the philosopher's stone. She had had many choice words to say over that particular scenario, and she'd ended up saying them to the back of a cover.

The next time was only a year later, when the basilisk was set free in the school. Obviously, at the time she didn't know what the creature was, but she was aware that not telling the parents of the petrified students was wrong. However, she wasn't headmistress anymore and her rules or opinions didn't matter. Or so she was told, before the cover went down over her canvas.

A year later, and yet again, the cover was flipped down when she tried to plead Sirius' innocence. Albus was only a little smug when she no reasoning for his attack on the Fat Lady or his success at breaking into the Gryffindor tower. She, in turn, was smug when Harry Potter revealed Sirius' innocence and the story was backed up by an injured Weasley and Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age.

Her portrait was covered every year by Albus Dumbledore, sometimes multiple times, until Albus never entered the room again.

She cried that day, even if they'd had their differences throughout his time as Headmaster. Now he was her neighbour and he pretended to sleep the whole time.

Severus' time ended, and when his portrait was added, she cried a little then, for he was far too young. Minerva's time began and finished with very little stress or arguments and then it was time for Hermione Granger's turn in the office.

Her moving in day proved to be considerably harder than anyone else's due to the lack of co-operation from the house elves.

"Can't say I'm too fond of house elves," Dilys commented, not really expecting a response since she was history. She'd become used to that fact over the years.

"My problem is that I'm too fond of them," Hermione replied, shocking Dilys. "I tried to free them when I was younger. But I didn't know better, and even though I do now they don't trust me."

"They will. One day," Dilys replied, and her words seemed to relax the new Headmistress.


	15. Unexpected

**Prompt: Drama with the Weasley family.**

**Word Count: 1,404**

* * *

Ron stared at the pale and unmoving body, his head cradled in his hands and his elbows resting on his jittering knees. Beside him, on his left, sat Harry who was just as silent and unnerved as he was; on his right was his mother, a source of comfort that dated back for years, but Ron was struggling to feel the comfort from her this time.

"Hey, love," Ron greeted, his voice croaky from disuse and surprisingly loud in the near silent hospital room. "It's time to wake up."

Hermione remained unresponsive.

"Please, Hermione," he begged, moving to clutch her hand between his and presses his face against her skin. "I need you."

The room remained as quiet as it was before, the only background noise being the hustle and bustle of St Mungo's and Molly's sniffling.

"The poor dear," she whispered, holding a handkerchief to her face. "If she wakes up, how can she ever feel safe in her own home?"

"_When_ she wakes up," Ron said, "she'll be living with me and rarely leaving my sight. I won't allow this to happen to her again."

* * *

"Kingsley, I need to talk to you," Tonks declared, rushing into his office. "It's important, it regards Hermione and I'm praying to Merlin, Morgana and anybody else who is powerful that I am wrong." She tripped over an umbrella stand, barely blinking as it clattered to the floor, as she reached for a chair and perched in it.

"Go ahead," he replied, setting aside his quill and parchment. "I'm all ears."

"Hermione lives in a muggle area, in her old folks' home, and Harry was telling me about how some muggles have cameras to help provide evidence if something was to occur outside their house, you know?" She inhaled, catching her breath as Kingsley nodded, and she sped away with words again. "Well, we went to check Hermione's house and she didn't have one but the house across the road does and Harry's cousin is a police officer and he got a warrant to have a look at the moving pictures and he found something."

Kingsley straightened up in his chair, his eyes wide, and stared at the younger Auror.

"What kind of something?"

"A narrowing-down-of-the-suspects kind of something."

* * *

"See? Right there," Nymphadora exclaimed, pointing to the grainy image just as it seemed to get grainier. It was hard watching things and looking at evidence via memories but she was sure they could manage. "You saw that, right?"

"I saw a poor quality image get worse just as the man knocked on the door." He raised an eyebrow, which silently spoke the words he was thinking. "I fail to see what you're trying to get at. It could be a muggle for all we know."

"No," Tonks argued. "I've watched hours of this rubbish. Hours. The increased crappiness only occurs when Hermione is either leaving or arriving her house." Kingsley kept his blank look. "Magic, Kingsley! It is a well known fact that some muggle things react badly to magic. Hermione was telling me the other week about how she'd blown up her tillyvision the other day because she got too close to it."

Kingsley's face had shifted to mild curiosity and contemplation. "So you're saying that a wizard was the one who attacked Hermione, because the image was struck with the same effects that it is struck with when Hermione is present?"

"Exactly," she answered smugly. "And because it is in colour, I think I know who did it."

* * *

"Mum, I should really get to St Mungo's. What if Hermione wakes up and I'm not there?"

"Then the Healer will send an owl or patronus to contact you and you can make your way to her bedside. She'll only scold you if she wakes up and you've put your needs on a back burner." Ron slouched at his mother's words but accepted the plate that was passed to him.

Weasley dinners were normally filled with laughter and happiness, but this time it was an extremely sombre affair.

"I just want to know who did it," Ron mumbled grumpily. "Why would they attack her?"

"I think we can answer that," Tonks answered from behind him, and he whirled with a mixture of shock and excitement.

"Do you know who did it?" Tonks nodded and he sat up, ready to listen. And plot a murder.

"Ronald Weasley, we are arresting you for the assault of Hermione Granger. You have the-"

"What?" he shouted. "This is outrageous. I would never hurt Hermione. Why would I do that?"

"It's common knowledge that you're jealous of her magical abilities and her brains. People have attacked other people for less than petty jealousy," Kingsley answered, jerking the younger wizard to his feet.

"Now hold on," Arthur interjected. "Ron would never hurt Hermione. He didn't do this."

"With all due respect Arthur, nobody but the attacker and the attacked knows who did this and Ron can plead innocence all he likes but he has a history of jealousy and arguments with Hermione throughout their time at Hogwarts. It'll be wrapped up quick and easy."

"He didn't attack Hermione," Arthur repeated. "I did."

Everyone fell silent as they stared at the older wizard. Kingsley released Ron's arms but Ron didn't make any move to step away, instead staring at his father - this man - with the expression of ultimate betrayal.

* * *

_"Hey, Mr Weasley," Hermione greeted as she opened her front door. Come on in." She stepped back, opening the door wider to allow her boyfriend's father to enter her home. "I'm surprised that you didn't use the floo, it's all connected with the network."_

_"I fancied stretching my legs," he responded, stepping further into her home._

_"Can I get you a drink, Mr Weasley?"_

_"Oh, no," he chuckled. "This is only a quick visit. Sit, please," he told her, motioning to her armchair. She sat down slowly, looking rather curious and confused. "My son, Ronald, I want you to end things with hm."_

_Hermione blinked before laughing softly. "Pardon? For a second there, I though you asked me to break up with your son."_

_"I did," he replied, unruffled by her response. "My son deserves better than you. He shouldn't have to scrape the bottom of the barrel when looking for a wife." Hermione's face turned a dark shade of red, the only outward sign of her anger. "Many people mistake my obsession of muggle items to the fact that I love them; they would be wrong. Those lesser beings have weapons, weapons that can destroy us and I want to study the way they work so I can protect my family and other witches and wizards. Surely you understand?"_

_Hermione remained silent._

_"You are a muggle and you will hurt my son and I want it to end. Now."_

* * *

"She refused and that's when I stupefied her, planning on obliviating her, but she hit her head on the fireplace and there was so much blood and so I left her there and made my way home."

The Weasley clan, and two Aurors, were silent as they stared at the patriarch who they had believed to be a gentle man.

"I'm sorry, Ron," he whispered, staring at his son who was staring brokenly back. "I'm so sorry."

"Arthur Weasley, you're under arrest for the assault on Hermione Granger.," Tonks began as Kingsley removed his wand and bound his wrists. He didn't hear the words that she said, he was too focused on his son's devastated face.

"Get ready to be side-alonged," Kingsley breathed in his ear before apparating to the cells in the Ministry.

* * *

"You knew all along, didn't you?" Ron asked. "You never thought it was me."

"No, I knew it was Arthur," she confirmed. "I wouldn't have had enough proof without a confession, however, and he did all this because he loved you, so it made sense that he wouldn't have left you go down for his crime." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry that you've had to experience this."

She apparated away but Ron barely noticed her absence.

"What do I do now?" he asked. "How can I look Hermione in the eye, knowing that my father was the one who attacked her and put her in hospital?"

"She loves you," Ginny reassured him. "Dad's actions aren't going to ruin that for you. Just have some faith in her."


	16. Betrayal of the Worst Kind

**Tom Riddle Jr **/ Hermione Granger

**A Muggle Restaurant (location)**

**Lamp (word)**

**Prod (word)**

* * *

Lord Voldemort sat in the restaurant chair; the plastic wood beneath him smooth and offering no comfort at all. He still made it look as if he was sitting on a throne, however, and he even managed to disguise the disgusted sneer on his face into one of disinterested blankness.

"My Lord," Antonin Dolohov started, "may I ask why we're situated in such a _despicable _location?" The toe of his boot gave a slight prod at a dead muggle, his whole demeanor acting as if it was a squashed bug on the floor. To him, it - she - was.

"You may ask, Antonin, but whether I may answer or not, is entirely dependent on my mood."

Antonin exchanged an uneasy look with Rabastan Lestrange; the wizard in question seemed to be completely at ease in the building that was crumbling around them; his feet were resting on the table and he was playing with the cutlery as if it was a foreign object.

"My Lord, why are we here?"

The fork that Rabastan was twirling between his fingers stilled. Antonin forgot to breathe.

"We're waiting for an acquaintance," their Lord answered. "They'll be here soon."

"May I ask why we're waiting _here? _Of all the places to meet, why choose a derelict food location? And one with such low hygiene levels at that."

"You are pushing your luck, Antonin," the Lord hissed, his face transforming from blank calm to one of pure anger. Antonin paled and stepped back, knocking a lamp off of the table, which had somehow managed to survive the previous attack, causing it to shatter on the floor. He winced at the sound, staring at the shards as if they were going to jump up and attack him.

"Oh, leave him alone," a female voice commented. "He's scared of getting infected by muggles."

The trio of wizards turned to face the new arrival, two of them raising their wands, whilst the other smiled with amusement.

"We're an infectious breed, didn't you know?"

"Hermione Granger," he chuckled. "I must admit, I was surprised that you actually turned up." He tapped a finger against his bottom lip. "I had even considered this to be an ambush."

"And yet you only brought three men." She raised a hand when Rabastan opened his mouth, his expression smug. "Into the building with you, I should add. Lucius and Rodolphus really don't look comfortable trying to look nonchalant and muggle on the pavement across the road and Draco looks like he's going to go insane on that rooftop."

Tom Riddle Junior laughed. "You're delightful," he commented. "Absolutely wonderful. Now, would you care to tell me why we're having this meeting?"

Hermione's eyes raked over his henchmen, his minions, both of whom were still poised to fire their wands whilst she was still unarmed. She reached for her back pocket, moving slower when their grips on their wands tightened.

She threw the parchment at Voldemort.

He caught it and stared at her for a few moments longer before breaking the wax, unravelling it and reading. His face turned blank, furious and then back to blank.

"How did this occur?"

"The Order," she answered with a shrug. "How else?"

"Why?" he asked. "Why did they do this?"

She hesitated before answering, "I began to doubt the war." She spoke softly, almost a whisper in the large room. "All this death and devastation was making me sick. I was tortured when I was eighteen, just for my existence."

"You know I would've stopped that," he reassured, "if I'd been told."

Antonin and Rabastan both looked confused.

"My Lord, we don't understand," Rabastan offered. "We'd be honoured if you could share."

"The Order killed Hermione Granger's parents, trying to frame myself for the action in a bid to tie her closely to them and their cause." The Death Eaters stared at her in shock. "But they didn't realise just who they were dealing with, did they?"

"Richard and Jean Granger are a couple that would never have been killed by you or your minions," she offered. "They may have given up their wands after the First Wizarding War, but they were still purebloods and were remaining neutral."

"Purebloods?" Dolohov questioned.

"Direct descendants from the famous potioneer, Dagworth-Granger," she offered, looking smug. Her amusement was wiped instantly as her thoughts returned to her. "Tom, I want them dead."

The Dark Lord rose from his throne and walked towards her, stopping right in front of her so that their chests brushed as they inhaled and exhaled.

"We'll watch the Order burn, my love," he vowed as he tucked a curl behind her ear. "But they won't rise from the ashes."

* * *

"Hermione!" Harry cried, staring at the girl he'd considered his little sister. "What have you done?"

"I've changed the war," she shouted back, arms spread wide so he could take in the destruction, just in case he hadn't noticed it beforehand. "The Order killed my parents, Harry," she told him. "I kill the Order."

"This isn't you," he told her. "You wouldn't betray me like this."

"There was a magical trace at my parents' home. For anyone less powerful than myself, they wouldn't have noticed it, but I did. It was a trace that I'm rather familiar with," she said, "considering I used to share a bedroom with her when I stayed at the Burrow."

"Ginny?" He shook his head in disbelief, and denial. "She wouldn't do that."

"But she did, Harry," she replied. "She killed my parents so that I'd think that Tom killed them to get to me. She did it on order of the Order in the hope to tie me closer to you and them." She smirked at her friend. "It didn't work."

"That wasn't me, Hermione. It was them!"

"It was," she confirmed. "I know that." She looked almost sad for a moment. "But I can't stand behind a group of people who would murder for no reason, just to ensure their alliance. Harry, that isn't me and, if you think about it, that isn't you either."

"He killed _my _parents, Hermione," he said to her, seeing where she was going. "I can't just forget that."

"Neither can I, Harry." She lowered her wand and stepped to the side, allowing Tom Riddle Junior to pass her. "Neither can I."


End file.
